Crash and (1 of 2)
by EleanorKate
Summary: The first time I laid eyes on him he was flat on the pavement on a filthy London street. I still shudder now so many years later at the memory of seeing him flush on his back after our unfortunate yet fortuitous collision and the consequences that followed.
1. Chapter 1

"Sorry, I am such fool!" I managed to stutter out, immediately feeling that sensation of guilt as I looked across to him. He looked shocked and possibly in pain. When I had managed to sit up straight, my legs entangled in my poor ill-used bicycle, I thought I heard his voice telling me to "take a minute". My eyes were failing me and I couldn't see him at all, my head spinning so. The pavement of Poplar did not even feel safe to stand on.

As he sat up properly, I saw him hold his shoulder. I saw him stagger to his feet and him offer me his hand.

As we all picked ourselves up off the floor, clear that Cynthia had seemingly done some unpleasant damage to her elbow, I could see even more of a crowd gathering than there had been before. I felt a hand on my arm as I was guided to sit on a window ledge as, as soon as I tried to walk, I suddenly felt oh so nauseous and disorientated. I could see Trixie, Jenny, Cynthia - all of them - in various states of shock but the humming noise in my head was refusing to allow me to hear what anyone was saying.

I spent most of the next few minutes staring at my feet desperately trying to breathe through the pain in my head and the sick feeling in my stomach, avoiding the gaze of the women and children that had suddenly appeared out of the houses and alleyways. What a sight we must have been – 4 midwives in full uniform cannoning into a sole Policeman who had been quietly minding everyone else's business directing traffic.

I recognised some of the crowd from my rounds too which made it altogether far too worse. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy, only about 6 years of age, pick up one of the bicycle bells that had come loose. I was too dazed to think it was theft and ignored him as the black of a Police Uniform stood before me. I looked up.

"Are you alright, Nurse? You don't look well at all". His voice sounded miles away, almost echoing through my head.

I just about struggled out the words "I'll be just fine. Don't you worry about me" with forced jollity.

How odd it was that I only noticed his eyes, eyelashes so long that were so wrong to be worn on a man. Why did I think to look there? He was about to arrest me so why was I noticing his eyelashes?

He walked over to where Cynthia and Trixie were standing. Jenny came and sat with me and I felt her take my wrist checking my pulse. I heard vague words that it was racing but at that moment I really could not have cared. I was more concerned that Cynthia was still holding her elbow and with Trixie's obvious attempt at flirtatious distraction with the Policeman as he wrote in his pocket book.

He did not look impressed at all and I was hoping on hope that I would not be summonsed and I would have to stand up in front of a judge and tell him that "Yes, your Honour, it was my fault and I did knock over that rather beautiful looking Policeman". It was my fault, most things in life seemed to be my fault, so I would never let any of the girls take any blame whatsoever. I do believe I had shown up to my new colleagues be what Mater had always said I was – "_a disaster_".

I saw him finish talking to Cynthia and Trixie and he nodded to Jenny. I didn't hear any of the conversation they had had and Jenny was by me talking of concussion, broken bones and telephoning Dr Turner. Her words were just a jumble.

How would Mater react if I was arrested and hauled before the Courts? She was already ashamed of me for wanting to work, so deep down inside some part of me wondered whether it would make a difference. She would say it was typical that I had embroiled myself in this life that being arrested was inevitability if I was going to mix in these circles. I would sit, my ears burning as she paced the floor, talking of _her_ shame, _her_ injury and how _she _would be ostracised by her circle. What was I thinking? Of course I would be arrested. I had just cannoned into an Officer of Law and caused him Lord knows what injury so it _was_ inevitable.

"Chummy? Can you stand up?" Jenny said in my ear. I took a steadying breath as I heard Trixie list out all our names to the Policeman. I prayed she would not use my full name and when she just said "_Camilla Browne"_ I breathed deeply for the first time in minutes. I am sure he would think odd of me if he knew that his assailant clearly did not belong here.

I heard him say he would come to Nonnatus that afternoon to speak to the Sisters. That was it. I may have well just gone back there and packed my bags there and then. I had already failed in the eyes of Sister Evangelina, so my dreams were shattered before they had even started. I wanted to curl up, there in the street, and fall asleep until everything was better.

I watched Trixie get back on her bike, going back to Nonnatus to fetch one of the Sisters and Cynthia walked over to sit next to me, holding her arm until I felt her take mine in comfort. I had hurt her too; hurt someone I hoped I could consider a friend. It only added to my guilt even though her concern for me was clear on her face. I only hoped I could express one day how sorry I was and hope that she did not judge me.

I could not speak to the Officer through fear, shyness and shame but that said, he barely said a word to me either only to ask after my health and not to berate my carelessness as I would perhaps have expected. I braced myself for a ticking off; well more than a ticking off, but none came.

I took note of his badge number, a shiny "P 127" on his shoulder. I wanted to apologise in peace as I could not bear it if he thought even more ill of me even though I did not know him from the next man in the street.

Later that night, as I had been confined to bed by Dr Turner, Sister Julienne brought word that I would not be dismissed nor charged. I dare not ask why; she may never have known herself, but as I fell asleep that night I played it over in my head.

Why on earth had he not charged me? Surely, this must be my imagination playing games. I could have knocked him unconscious, killed him even, yet he was not going to charge me?

It made me ever more nervous; the unknown of why this perfect stranger would be so….I struggled over the words. Kind? No. Understanding? Maybe. Forgiving? Yes.

Even more so I knew I needed to walk to the Police Station as soon as I could and apologise.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, armed only with his badge number and an apologetic bottle of Whiskey, she entered the Police Station, so glad she had thought to look at his shoulder as she would have made an utter fool of herself trying to describe him.

Years of being forcibly paraded in front of eligible bachelors by her mother had taken their toll. She would feel sick when another name was mentioned, of someone's son who was home and in search of a wife. She was inept around the male of the species, barely able to strike up a conversation, and she would never kid herself otherwise, even though she did harbour the desire that there could be just that someone out there somewhere. There were times she thought it was a delusion though. Taller than most men she met most would look on her as the circus freak; not the pretty, dainty, _anonymous_ wife that would decorate their arm.

For now, however, she was happy with her current lot and had resolved to herself long ago there was no point in pining after something you never had; after all why miss something that you don't even know anything about? No man had every attempted to hold her hand, let alone kiss her so why at 32 would that change?

Camilla walked in the Police Station, with its grim green painted walls and aura of cold, to be greeted with a ruddy faced Sergeant.

"Noakes is 127", a gruff, disinterested voice answered her query, scraping his eyes up her 6ft 2 inch frame.

"He's out on the beat, madam" he continued as he looked at his watch. "Off shift around 5 if you don't mind the décor", he said gesturing at the bland walls, emphasising the last word sarcastically.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. 5 o'clock was just shy of an hour away. Not really wanting to spend an hour sitting in a Police Station she went to the café she had passed on the way in after asking the Sergeant to let him know that Camilla Browne had asked for Constable Noakes and it was about the accident in the Docks last Tuesday.

The time passed relatively quickly, assisted by two cups of tea and a Chelsea Bun, and she was about to go back to the Police Station when she looked up and he was standing by the table.

"I'm told you are looking for me?" He looked so different out of uniform. A crown of reddy brown hair and blue eyes framed with those eyelashes she had taken particular exception too. Her skin burned an interesting shade of pink – her emphatic words that she thought she would have had to confess before a Judge were true – he was rather beautiful, but so sorely out of reach for more reasons than she cared to consider.

"I saw you sitting in here on my way back in and Frank mentioned someone was looking for me and I put two and two together. I am glad we are meeting again in better circumstances." He stretched out his hand to take hers.

"Peter Noakes"

They shook hands, Camilla trying desperately to take the flustered shake out of her voice. She gestured for him to sit down; knowing that even if she failed once again to make small talk, her purpose was to apologise and even she could manage that, she hoped.

"I wanted to apologise again. That's why I'm here. I came to talk to you about the accident." It was completely backwards to what she intended to say but she felt the message was somewhat the same.

"There's no need. I am sure Sister Julienne has told you there will be no charges" he said. He had a lovely voice; and Camilla, perhaps not realising it, started to feel a little more comfortable. Perhaps she could make conversation with him without making a fool out of herself.

"Why though?" she responded, quite surprised as she was expecting him to say he had changed his mind and she would be up before the Magistrates before she could blink. She had been fretting for 3 days until she was fit enough to get out of bed, working it over and over in her mind, her imagination working ten to the dozen and dreaming up all kinds of appalling scenarios that she could face.

"It was an accident, Nurse. I've a couple of bruises nothing more". He did think of asking her then and there. She intrigued him; even through only the handful of words they exchanged there was something about her that he felt he knew. He held his tongue though.

Camilla however did not understand, desperately wanting to ask him why again, but those words were trapped too. She produced the bottle of Whiskey from underneath the table.

"I brought this to apologise", she said, pushing the bottle across to him. How odd it was that she could keep eye contact with him and not feel the blush of embarrassment creep over her skin.

A joke flew through his mind about bribery and Police Officers, but he could see in her eyes (and in the context of how they met), that a joke about another offence might not been seen as funny. Perhaps he would tell it to her another day.

"Before you say there is no need, there really is every need" she paused. "They didn't have The Glenlivet but they said it was just as good". He smiled as he took the bottle from her. He had never of that Whiskey anyway.

"Thank you" he replied. "I would have just accepted the words, but thank you".

Camilla smiled at him, feeling oddly at ease yet equally conspicuous in the half empty café. A deathly silence ensued. Even though her trip had served its purpose she might have liked to talk to him more if only her courage would not fail her.

"I," she paused. "I must get back. The Sisters will be wondering if I've abandoned them".

_We walked to the end of the street and parted in separate directions. _

_I did look back at her and was glad I did._

_I dare not look back at him, even though I was sorely tempted._

_I had not had the mettle to ask any girl to the pictures for years. I had the words laid out in my head for her, but they stayed firmly there, trepidation stalling the courage that I thought I still had left. I could challenge any thief but I could not ask her one question fearing the familiar sinking sensation of rejection when one day she may see my scarred skin and wounded mind._

_Besides, he said to himself, she would never think that way of me._

_Even after the few minutes I had been his company I felt safe; far safer than I had felt in years. I started to wonder what it would be like to walk hand in hand with him, perhaps along the river or to see a film. All of a sudden as I walked back to Nonnatus, I ended up smiling to myself. Here I was craving security and touch, yet feeling good old disillusionment again._

_Besides, she said to herself, he would never think that way of me._


End file.
